


Departed

by HajimeHinata



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, i just wanted to write something sad honestly, i was thinking about an overwatch fic since i wanted to write mccree and was like "let him cry", it says major character death but that character is dead already in the fic it's fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8056078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HajimeHinata/pseuds/HajimeHinata
Summary: Forgiven but never forgotten.





	Departed

**Author's Note:**

> For Jill

It was unfairly sunny. It was unfair the weather be this nice on a day like this one.

A gentle wind rustled the grass cut in patches and the skittering of leaves across the ground was the only sound there was. Heavy boots on freshly packed dirt left marks. There were people everywhere, taking up space over space for miles, but only one of them was alive. Row after row of eternally resting forms were underneath the earth below his feet. Some didn’t even rest here, the names serving as reminders did only that.

A simple headstone for a simple man. It was fitting really. He always spoke directly and firmly, there was no need for flowy language or extravagant metaphor. It was almost dramatic how firm he was, the way he spoke, the way he acted, the way he was. It almost made you want to laugh that he hadn’t gone for a more extravagant end. It was in the end though, the actions they remembered, now how they wrote his name.

His actions would be remembered as acts of cruelty, acts of treason, acts of selfish hate. Not what he stood for, but who would think he was a good man in the end? After the reveal of a darker, blacker side of the world’s heroes, who would believe him or anyone who followed him?

A dusty boot kicked at the dirt on the ground and an annoyed hiss escaped he man’s lips. He hadn’t gone to the funeral. He should have. He could have. But he never went. He didn’t want to see if people would be lining the streets in protest and making this remembrance about themselves and the world around them than the man who gave his life to keep it safe. This was as much for him as it was for the living.

“Ya always did have a flair fer he dramatic, didn’ ya?” Jesse asked the headstone. The headstone did not respond. Would Reyes have responded?

“Ta think this is how ya went out. Woulda expected a blaze ‘a glory, not bringin’ down everyone who trusted ya” he laughed bitterly. His arm still felt like it was there. Phantom pains die hard.

“Still… I gotta thank ya. I never did, did I? Ya took me outta the streets, killin’ fer fun and fer threats. An here all I did was kill in the end. But it was better than it was, purpose killin’. ‘Spose I’m grateful to ya fer keepin’ my ass outta prison. Funny what shootin’ yer gun for the right team will do fer ya.” It was a morbid way of looking at how far he had come. He was truly thankful, he wouldn’t be here, much less alive he predicted, without Reyes. But his words dripped in spite and his head was swimming.

This was, after all, a time of remembrance though, so Jesse took off his hat and held it to his chest, staring holes into the dirt before him, like he was expecting Reyes to tell him to get a move on and leave him be. They would have a difficult time training, they would have a drink together at the end of a long day, and things would be normal again. He never considered Reyes a friend, but somehow, they were family. Blood didn’t matter in a family if someone cared about you, and Jesse was almost positive that, deep down somewhere, Reyes cared.

The footsteps behind Jesse were almost non-existent. Someone else had arrived to do the same thing he was. Remembering Reyes without getting caught and questioned in the act. He could tell who it was without having to turn around. He didn’t move.

“Hope ya brought an umbrella Ma, it’s fixin’ ta rain.”

Ana looked toward the sky. The deep blue spanned across as far as the eye could see and not a single cloud could be seen for miles. Her eyes flickered back to Jesse. She approached cautiously, placing a gentle hand on the man’s back as he unknowingly trembled. She held a handkerchief from inside her coat up to him.

“For the rain” she murmured.

Jesse took the cloth and dried his eyes, but that didn’t prevent them from welling up again. He gave over half of his life to be here, because of Reyes, and now he was gone. He gave Jesse a purpose before leaving, yes, but why did he have to leave at all?

He didn’t whimper when he cried, he just let the tears flow as if it was natural. He looked to Ana. “Didn’ want them knowin’ you were alive?”

“Some memories are better remembered alone, some people prefer the quiet and solitude.” She spent most of her time alone as a sniper. This was nothing new to her. The silence, the feel of being alone. She knew to let Jesse let his emotions out, to cry himself out. She was a mother, extending again, beyond blood.

The silence between them felt like eternities. Jesse was never truly speechless, but for once he had nothing to say, and that in itself spoke volumes. He dried his eyes again. The dryness stuck. He handed the handkerchief back, which she slipped into her coat gently.

“I gotta leave him somethin’ right? Since he left me with so much.”

Out of his back pocket, Jesse withdrew a worn red bandana. It looked like it had been around for a long time. Without a word he tied it to the top of Reyes’s grave. He had gotten it as a gift for his 18th birthday from the man himself. He was a troubled youth, always fighting, angry about the Blackwatch dress code, the way the world worked, his lack of freedom. Reyes gave him a bandana.

“Makes you easier to tell apart from the other recruits” Reyes had claimed. “And now you can shut up about not having any of your cowboy garbage on you.”

Until he had been old enough to choose his own outfit, to pick his own path, he wore that bandana every day, and now someone needed it more than him.

“Makes it easier to tell ya apart from the others” Jesse agreed.

He firmly placed his hat on his head and turned on his heel to leave. He had an appointment with Angela about a new arm. He was still fighting, still doing good, still living on.

And isn’t that what Reyes had always wanted?


End file.
